


The Slightest Changes

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, College Student Sam, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Janitor Gabriel, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Star-crossed, Very Slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's psychic powers kick in at age 20 instead of 22, and Castiel is sent in to reunite the Winchesters ahead of schedule. But Sam isn't alone at Stanford, and Castiel is developing a preference for the colour green.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slightest Changes

The demons came early for Sam Winchester.

Azazel’s plan, as far as Heaven had been informed, was to wait until his sullied spawn had aged two and twenty years. Then the poison would burst forth, enveloping their hearts and minds in coiling black. The games would begin, and the last one standing ( _SamuelWinchester_ ) would be prepared to host the Devil’s grace.

It appeared that had been a lie. Sam was twenty, and he was having oracular visions in his sleep.

The calculations of Heaven were precise. The universe was shifting gears and incremental movements, an intricate and exact choreographed dance. Even the slightest changes were aggravating—large ones were catastrophic. Sam Winchester coming into his destiny two years early fell somewhere in between the two. Heaven scrambled to prevent it, adjusting for every variable until they thought— _thought_ —they could get the ball rolling once more.

Castiel was told by Uriel ( _was told by Raphael was once told by God apparently_ ) to go to Earth and reunite the Winchester brothers a little early. Castiel agreed. 

 

It was a feat to separate father and son, but Castiel managed it. Creation was an archangelic power, and as such one that Castiel did not possess, but even so he managed to plant enough clues to convince John Winchester that Azazel was in Virginia. And that he had to go alone.

Castiel had planned on cutting John off from his son Dean, to instill some worry in the young man. But it seemed John was more than capable of doing that himself. Then it was simply a matter of descending into a human vessel—James Novak offered himself willingly—and convincing Dean to seek out his estranged brother. Right away.

Which, admittedly, could have gone over better.

“One would think,” Castiel said, when Dean sunk a silver knife into his vessel’s chest, “that a man who deals in the paranormal would be more accepting—” there went the holy water, “—of the presence of—” and a salt round, “—an angel of the Lord.”

Dean let out a reedy laugh. “Yeah? Well, _this_ one thinks he’d rather double check before he takes it on faith that some superpowered freakshow is a goddamn angel.”

“That is an oxymoron.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather not.”

That drew another laugh out of him, and Castiel tilted his head at the sound. He hadn’t thought he’d said anything funny. But he recognized Dean’s disbelief for what it was, and surmised that tangibility was the only truth the Winchester would accept. Sad, really.

Castiel peeled away a layer of space and spread his wings.

After that, it only took a handful of days to convince Dean to find Sam. A handful of days of John Winchester not calling, of Castiel refusing to leave and refusing to stop explaining how destiny worked. Later, Dean would say that Castiel basically annoyed him into going. Castiel would say nothing, but smile a knowing little smile because yes, he did, and yes, it worked.

 

They found Sam Winchester’s apartment with little difficulty. Dean insisted they drive there rather than flying with Castiel, because he’d flown from their meeting place outside the rundown diner back to his motel room and it was not an experience he was eager to repeat.

“Plus,” he said, “Sam’ll freak out if you try that shit with him. And he’s already gonna freak out when we show up, trust me.”

Human methods of transportation were slow and cumbersome and smelled like burnt things. But Castiel had to admit that the visceral sensation of wind in his ( _vessel’s_ ) hair was exhilarating.

When they pulled up in front of Sam’s building, Dean turned to look at Castiel and burst out laughing. “You look like you got good and laid,” he snickered.

Castiel glared at him, and they got out of the car.

He had come to Earth prepared. Prepared with a basic knowledge of the Winchesters’ roles, their respective locations, his mission. He was prepared to guide Sam towards his fate as Lucifer’s vessel, and Dean towards his as the Michael Sword. Castiel had prepared for everything, down to finding out the number on Sam Winchester’s apartment door.

He was not prepared for who opened it.

 

To a mortal’s eyes, the man could be called unassuming or striking, depending on the angle. He possessed common enough colouring, but his features were bold. His was just another human face, another human body. He was not Sam Winchester. He should not have been important.

But Castiel wasn’t burdened with a mortal’s eyes, and he knew that the man before him wasn’t either.

Dean raised a hand. “Sorry, guy, wrong door.” He tugged on Castiel’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

Castiel didn’t move. He narrowed his eyes at the man ( _who and what I know you’re not human but who and what_ ), who had raised a brow. “We’re looking for Sam Winchester,” he said.

The man pursed his lips, crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe. “And who is _we_ , bucko?”

“I’m Dean,” Dean said. “I’m his brother. D’you know which apartment he’s in?”

The man laughed. “So _you’re_ Dean, huh? Well. Didn’t think I’d be seeing _you_ around here any time soon.”

Castiel knew—and he knew Dean did too—that they had the right apartment. Dean frowned, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes. “And why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, take your pick. Sided with Daddy over him, snaked his girl, bitched him out on a regular basis… he didn’t exactly paint your past in a flattering light.”

Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder tight, shot him a hard look. _Do not attack this creature. Not yet._ By some small miracle, it seemed that Dean understood, and Castiel felt him relax a little under his grasp. The angel turned to the man in the doorway and said, “Bring us to him. Now. Or you shall face the wrath of Heaven for your insolence.”

The man laughed, and the laugh was wild. “Pretty sure that ship has sailed, Cassie.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

Dean was looking between the both of them, his expressions shifting between horror and confusion. “Who the fuck—Cas, what the hell is going on here? Where the _fuck_ is Sam?”

Castiel felt him tense, and held him tighter. “He’s here,” he growled. “And you _will_ let us see him, Gabriel. It is written—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck,” the archangel snapped. “And no, you’re not coming in.”

 

There were a million and one things that Castiel had been burning to ask Gabriel. Questions that had been roiling in his mind for millennia—where have you been, why are you here, what do you think you’re doing…

What he wound up doing upon their reunion was subduing an angry, confused Winchester and begging Gabriel to let him through a hole in a wall. This, he felt, only served to undercut the gravitas of the moment.

Fortunately, Sam arrived at the scene—coming from his campus, as they later learned—a few moments later. He was appropriately stunned by Dean’s presence and appropriately puzzled by Castiel’s. Gabriel he seemed to expect. Which was troubling.

Somehow, Dean managed to talk Sam into letting them in. Somehow, Sam managed to let them in without any pushback from Gabriel. Somehow, the four of them wound up seated in Sam Winchester’s living room, and somehow, three faces wound up pointed at Castiel.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said, casting a wary glance at Gabriel. “Tell ‘em what you told me.”

Castiel did.

Sam was much easier to convince than Dean had been. In part because Sam, unlike his brother, already believed in God and angels. Castiel explained everything, though, like he had with Dean, he left out the part about Sam being Lucifer’s vessel. That would come in time. For now, all they had to know was that God wanted the Winchesters to stick together. That they had parts to play, that they would be responsible for bringing Paradise on Earth.

Raphael had said that would go over much better than telling them they’d be pitted against one another. Raphael had been right.

Still, Sam was reluctant. “I have a life here, Dean,” he said, because it wasn’t Castiel who was looking at him with eyes that begged. “I have people, I can’t just _leave_.”

“What, so you can’t pick up a phone and call your weird roommate every now and then?” Dean gestured at Gabriel, who gave him a sly smile. “Sam. Come on. Me and dad, we… we need you back. And hey, if the Big Man Upstairs is gunnin’ for it....”

Sam sighed. “Look, I need some time to think about it, okay? You can’t just uproot me. I’ve got classes, I’ve got my degree, I…” he sighed. “I don’t want that life again, Dean. I don’t care who says I should go back, it’s _my_ choice to make.”

“Okay. Okay, fair enough. You can think about it.”

 _No you can’t,_ thought Castiel. _There’s no choice, this is fate, you have to do it._

But Dean didn’t seem perturbed, so Castiel decided to try for patience. Besides, he would be remiss to continue ignoring his own brother, whose grace—because now that he knew it was there, oh, Castiel could feel it well—was positively vibrating with the itch to run. Castiel couldn’t let him run again.

“Gabriel, you live here also?” he asked.

Gabriel smirked. “I’m the weird roommate, Cas, weren’t you listening?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re together,” he said. Cast a wary look at Dean, and then at Castiel. “That’s okay, right?”

Castiel got the impression that no matter what answer he gave, Sam Winchester would continue to fornicate with the Messenger of God just to be spiteful. That didn’t stop him from being furious about it.

Before he could berate his brother for fraternizing with an ordained vessel, however, Dean opened his mouth.

“Are you _serious_?” he yelped. “This guy? Sam, he’s like ten years older than you, what the _fuck_?”

Ten years.

As the Winchesters argued, Castiel sought out Gabriel’s frequency and snapped as well as an angel’s voice could snap—

_What were you thinking?_

**What? He’s cute.**

_That is irrelevant. He is Lucifer’s vessel, he is not long for this world. You know this, Gabriel, you’ve known this since the beginning. Why would you get involved?_

**I didn’t exactly plan it out, if that makes you feel any better. Relax, Cas, I’ve got this under control.**

_No, you don’t._

**Shush, not in front of the boys.**

 

Gabriel had been posing as a night janitor on Sam’s campus. Sam had been studying late at night, until Gabriel had to kick him out because sorry, kiddo, building’s closed. They’d begun speaking. They’d fallen in… something. And Gabriel had simply refused to get back up again.

That was the story as Castiel heard it, whispered across the tether between his and Gabriel’s graces.

 _The demons came early,_ he whispered back. _This may have been why._

**Probably. I assumed they’d wanna move fast once I latched on. Not that they know what I am, of course, but the power signature’s hard to ignore. Disguise, sure, but they know I can fuck ‘em up.**

_And what will you do when Lucifer rises? What will you do when you lose him, Gabriel? You can’t stop it._

Gabriel gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. **I can try.**

_Does he know? What you are._

**If I ever need him to run, I’ll tell him then.**

 

Castiel kept an eye on Sam and Gabriel for the rest of the evening. He watched the way they reached for each other absently, the way they slid their mouths together. He watched them smile, laugh, poke and prod. He watched the way Sam looked at Gabriel. Watched the softness in his brother’s eyes when he looked back, looked at the man destined to host the Devil’s grace. Castiel wondered how Gabriel could have been so careless. After all that time spent running, how could he have fallen for the one human who by all rights he could never have?

“They’re kinda good together, aren’t they?” Dean muttered, and he did not sound happy about it.

Castiel nodded slowly. “I… have a limited understanding of human relationships, but it appears to me that they are happy. That seems good.”

“You knew the guy’s name,” Dean said. “And he knew yours. Should I be worried, or…?”

“Er, we have met before. Angels… commune with the devout on occasion. We know a lot.”

“Heh.” The elder Winchester grinned. “Shit like that makes you a good guy to keep around. Could be useful while we’re lookin’ for our dad.”

Castiel glanced at him. That hadn’t been part of the mission. In fact, as soon as Sam agreed to go, his mission was technically complete. He had to return to Heaven soon.

Dean met his gaze, and furrowed his brow. “What? You _are_ sticking around, right? Make sure we’re still flying straight?”

There was something in his voice that Castiel didn’t recognize. As if it were a prayer, rather than a simple question. Dean’s eyes were green and his soul was bright, and Castiel found himself saying _yes_ before he could catch himself.

He looked at Sam, who was looking at Gabriel, who was looking right back.

Dean’s eyes were green and his soul was bright, and suddenly Gabriel made perfect sense.

**Author's Note:**

> Or: for some reason the Janitor!Gabriel/Student!Sam AU I had in my head wouldn't work right until it was told from Cas' POV. But that's good, because bonus Destiel!


End file.
